Skyrim: The Unlikely Legend of Lydia
by Sonata-Time-Flare-Nocturne-Aoi
Summary: Direct sequel to 'Skyrim: The Unglamourous Failings of Ulfric Stormcloak'. Ever wondered about the backstory of everyone's favorite housecarl Lydia and how she came under the service of Jarl Balgruuf? Witness the hilarity of her plight and journey in this story! Rated T for language and violence.
1. Scene 1: The Mistaken

**Story**: Skyrim: The Unlikely Legend of Lydia  
**Author**: Master Jin Sonata & Time Master  
**Written**: July 15th, 2019  
**Genre**: Humor  
**Rating**: T (Violence, Language)  
**Disclaimer**: I do not own Bethesda or its badass housecarl.

* * *

**Scene 1: The Mistaken**

_Hi, my name is Lydia. My last name is not all that important, as most people here in Skyrim seem to forget it anyways. So, let me tell you a story on how I was unceremoniously roped into a string of ridiculous events that ultimately lead me to become a Housecarl under the service of Jarl Balgruuf the Greater. You see, this mess all started a few days ago…_

_I was standing in front of a massive structure known as Dragonsreach within a mid-sized town known as Whitetrun. I had left my home village of Ivarstead after living with my parents for a while following a nasty breakup with my ex Bassianus Axius after I caught him cheating on me with some young bitch called Fastred…_

_…sorry, I'm losing my focus. Let's continue._

_I had traveled here to apply for mercenary work so I could make some quick gold and buy my own home. What I'd do with myself from that point I've yet to consider. In the meantime, I could only imagine what sort of menial task I'd be sent out to do just to make a quick coin._

_And by menial, I mean a task that I was grossly under-qualified for._

* * *

Once inside Dragonsreach, Lydia was immediately approached by a rather rude broad named Irileth, a female Dunmer nightblader who appeared to be the Jarl's active Housecarl.

"What's the meaning of this interruption? Jarl Balgruuf is not receiving visitors," Irileth says coldly as she approaches, stopping me and brandishing a short sword before I could get close enough to the Jarl.

"Geez, woman, back up! I'm here to apply for the mercenary job that was posted from the Jarl," Lydia says, raising an eyebrow at her not-so-subtle aggressive response.

"Well, that explains why the guards let you in. Come on then, the Jarl will want to speak to you personally," Irileth says, slowly sheathing her weapon and stepping aside for me to advance to my point of contact.

"Ah, approach, wayward traveler," commanded Jarl Balgruuf, who sat on his throne. To his right was his Steward, Proventus Avenicci, and to his left stood Irileth who had returned to his side.

"I've been watching you for some time now, Miss…Lynda, was it?" Jarl Balgruuf asks, trying to recall her name.

"My Lord, her name is Lydia…" Proventus corrects Jarl Balgruuf.

"That's not what the application you gave me said," Jarl Balgruuf responds, turning to shoot a small glare at his Steward.

"I assure you that's how the name was written," Proventus insists.

"Are you suggesting I'm incapable of reading fancy handwriting?" Jarl Balgruuf accuses his Steward.

"No, that's not what I'm saying, My Lord! Perhaps the applicant's handwriting was a bit hard to read to some. Afterall, she's from Ivarstead, you should cut her some slack," Proventus explains.

"_Hey I take offense to that!"_ Lydia says to herself in a huff. _"So what if our village is full of semi-illeterate bumpkins, that doesn't apply to me!"_

"WHATEVER!" Jarl Balgruuf shouts. "Let's get back to the matter at hand. Our guest, 'Lydia', must be eager to prove herself."

"_Ooh I like this Jarl already!"_ Lydia says quietly to herself in delight at her soon-to-be boss's take-no-shit attitude.

"So, Lydia, after reviewing your application, I have determined that you are eligible to become an officially recognized bodyguard, a Housecarl if you will, if you succeed in undertaking an important task," Jarl Balgruuf explains.

"Oh that sounds amaz-wait, what?! Housecarl?!" Lydia says before realizing that she is being offered way more than what she had initially expected.

"That is correct. Whiterun needs good men and women to show their mettle and allegiance while under our banner. Your credentials that you listed on your application tell me you are an experienced combatant…" Jarl Balgruuf lists off.

"_Yeah…only because I spent a good portion of my life beating the hell out of the other kids and adults in town who always tried to pick on me…"_ Lydia recalls.

"…that you are an exemplary upholder of duty and sacrifice…" Jarl Balgruuf continues.

"_Working three jobs as a teen to support my lazy good-for-nothing father and doing all the chores while my mother went off to drink day and night…"_ Lydia recollects.

"…and most importantly, that you swear to carry the burdens of others," Jarl Balgruuf concludes.

"…_Somehow I feel I'm going to regret adding that to my list of relevant skills…"_ Lydia mutters with a loud sigh.

"Well then, Miss Lydia, are you willing to accept my formal invitation to be employed under my services?" Jarl Balgruuf offers.

Lydia hesitates slightly, not known whether she should tell him that those things she used to describe her are slightly exaggerated and he may be taking things the wrong way...

…but you know what? She's made it this far with a promising job at hand. What does she have to lose?

"Yes, I accept, My Lord," I response.

"_In retrospect, I am SUCH a dumbass…"_

"What are the details of my mission?" Lydia inquires, hiding her look of unease and regret of accepting the offer.

"Today I have received this 'threatening and provocative letter' from the Jarl of Windhelm: Ulfric Stormcloak," Jarl Balgruuf explains. "In this letter he accuses several parties for plotting his untimely and unceremonious coup that nearly ended in his execution at Helgen. However, the Gods somehow were on his side and he managed to evade death and reclaimed his position back on the throne. The persons whom he pins the blame include Elisif the Fair of Solitude, Maven Black-Briar of Riften, and Elenwen of the Thalmor Embassy."

"Oh yes, I remember hearing about that, it was all over the publications around the region of that incident. So, what does that have to do with us?" Lydia asks, crossing her arms in curiosity.

"Apparently, we're being targeted as well due to another key player he claimed screwed him over: Sanguine, the Daedric Prince of Debauchery," Balgruuf continues to explain.

"…You're kidding right? I mean, why would some random dude with a fancy name be on a man's hit-list?" Lydia questions out confusions.

"This person is not some random dude. If you didn't know, Sanguine is one of the many evil gods in our realm. He is notorious for his pranks and influence of anything chaotic and unclean. He brings out the very worst in humankind and exploits them for his own entertainment," Irileth explains.

"_Daedric Princes…I was never taught about them growing up. Wow my village really is an illiterate backwater lot…"_ Lydia thought to herself.

"Irileth is correct. And, according to reports from my guards, Sanguine has been spotted many times pranking my citizens. He often appears within the The Bannered Mare. Your mission is to make contact with him and find a way to steer Ulfric's eyes away from my hold, and in the grander scheme of things, steer Sanguine away from Whiterun for good," Jarl Balgruuf instructs.

"You want me to team up with an evil prankster asshole?! How am I supposed to do that?!" Lydia blurts out a bit of shock.

"That's where we leave that up to your intuition. Your credentials from your application are impressive. I'm sure you will figure out a way to circumvent any forthcoming dangers from our hold," Jarl Balgruuf states with confidence.

"Now off you go, Miss Lydia, My Lord has other business in need of attention," Proventus says to her with a nod, dismissing her from the premises.

"_Ah shit…what did I just get myself into…?"_

* * *

**Please review and keep watch for new chapters as this fic is updated constantly!**


	2. Scene 2: The Misconception

**Scene 2: The Misconception**

_What a bind I got myself into. First time getting a job outside my home village and I end up being tasked into an unreasonable farce of a proposal._

_What the hell am I supposed to do around Daedric Prince anyway?_

* * *

Arms crossed and standing at the entrance to The Bannered Mare, Lydia let out loud audible groan.

"Okay, maybe perhaps I'm overthinking things right now. Maybe dealing with this so-called prankster might be easier than what I'm imagining it to be. Well, here goes nothing…" Lydia says as she proceeds to open the door and step inside.

Once inside, Lydia was met with a rather warm and humble establishment. Upon observation, the inn had two stories split into multiple rooms. On the first floor there was the commons, a small bedroom, and the kitchen. The second floor contained two or three bedrooms split across two areas. Several people were gathered around the center of the lobby where a low-burning flame over coals illuminated the interior. There was a bard playing music on his lute, several guards, adventurers, and locals scattered about the place, and of course the innkeeper herself.

"Hey stranger, you must be new here. What'll you have?" says the female Nord behind the counter.

"Oh, uh…" Lydia said before stopping her words short, quickly shifting herself to the woman. "I'll have a Colovian Brandy, Miss…?"

"Hulda, I'm the owner of this establishment," responds the woman. "And Colovian Brandy? That stuff is quite expensive and strong. You don't look like the type of person who could handle something like this," she comments to Lydia with curiosity.

"Oh, I've had stronger, but I'm currently on the job right now, so I just need something to calm my nerves," Lydia responds.

"Ha, that's a good one!" called a voice from behind.

Lydia turns around and fixes her gaze on a mature female Nord warrior wearing steel armor and armed with a great sword strapped to her back.

"And you are?" Lydia asks, raising an eyebrow at the woman.

"Uthgerd the Unbroken is what I'm known as," the woman responds. "Looks like another milk-drinker has walked in thinking that she's tough enough to handle her liquor, this ought to be good," she says in a rather arrogant tone.

"I beg your pardon? What's that supposed to mean? I'll have you know that I've won several drinking contests within my hometown of Ivarstead over the years," Lydia shoots back, glaring at Uthgerd.

"Oh, you're from that place…figures you would claim to know your alcohol, everyone from that village are a bunch of drunken idiots," Uthgerd responds with a mocking laugh.

_"We'll she's not wrong…but still…"_

"Look, bitch. You want to start something? I'm just here to get some leads on a job I've been assigned by the Jarl himself. If you're not going to say anything useful, then how about you take that great sword out of your ass and shut it?" Lydia warns the warrior.

"Was that in insult?!" Uthgerd says, taken aback at the threat as she shifts her body to a more aggressive stance.

"What do you think?" Lydia answers, crossing her arms.

"I think I'm getting really tired of you country-bumpkins stinking up the town, and I think you ought to apologize or else!" Uthgerd warns her.

"Make me you secondhand thug," Lydia responds firmly.

"That's it! I'm punching your lights out. Put up your…" Uthgerd proclaims furiously as she raises her fists…

**BIF…WHAP…POW…CRACK…BAM!**

…only to be combo'd into oblivion by Lydia's fists of fury, laying Uthgerd flat on the floor in a complete daze.

Everyone within the inn all stood in complete silence before slowly clapping in approval of this new girl's victory over a seasoned mercenary.

Lydia shakes her fists before turning back to Hulda.

"Uh…sorry about that…" Lydia says with a slightly embarrassed laugh, realizing that she just made a huge scene as her first impression.

She wasn't quite sure if that was a good or bad decision…

"Don't worry about it! We get people who get into brawls all the time here. Here, your drink is on the house, Hulda responds with a look of approval before leaving the counter to prepare her Colovian Brandy.

Once she had her drink in hand, a peculiar, yet plain-looking figure was signaling her to join him at his table across from the bar.

_"Hmm?" Who's this?"_ Lydia thought.

The man, a fair-skinned Breton, was wearing brown mage robes and had a dagger wrapped by his waist. He was seated holding a tankard of alcohol.

"Hmm…he looks harmless," Lydia said under her breath.

"_And by 'harmless' I mean 'looks are freaking deceiving'"!_

Lydia decides to indulge the man's invitation and heads toward his table.

"Greetings, young lady! Quite the impressive display of brawn you showed earlier. It's not often I find travelers that can hold their own against female Nords in hand-to-hand combat," the man comments with a smile.

"Well, being one myself, I know how to handle them. By the way, your name is…?" Lydia comments with a shrug.

"Sam Guevenne, but you can call me Sam for short," the man responds. "Say, that's a pretty strong drink you got there. Would care to challenge me to drinking contest? I bet I could drink you under the table. What do you say?"

"Well, I'm not supposed to be getting too sloshed right now, I'm kind of on a mission from the Jarl," Lydia responds frankly.

"Oh, I see. Too bad, I was hoping the one person that was able to beat Uthgerd wasn't so limp in the comradery department, oh well…" Sam says in a disappointed, yet oddly bemused tone.

"…You're on, pal!" Lydia says to Sam after being goaded into accepting his challenge at the risk of being a pushover.

"Wonderful!" Sam responds happily, his eyes lighting up in delight.

"_Boy is this man in for the shock of his life…"_

* * *

**Please review and keep watch for new chapters as this fic is updated constantly!**


	3. Scene 3: The Misdirection

**Scene 3: The Misdirection**

_Question: Have you ever had to face your demons…I mean…literally face your demons?_

_Strike this off my list of life accomplishments that I get to take with me to the grave._

* * *

Lydia slams down her tankard and lets out a loud, echoing burp.

This was her ninth drink.

Both she and Sam took turns downing the golden liquid the servers kept flowing on demand.

"My, you're quite good at this. You really can hold down your alcohol," Sam says with delight after letting out a sigh of satisfaction.

"I try not to oversell myself. I at least backup my claims in the event of needing to prove myself to others," Lydia responds as she stretches her arms above her. "And you're not bad yourself. At least you yourself can keep down a decent amount of brandy, unlike the guys back at my hometown."

"Sounds like a bunch of pushovers," Sam says with a chuckle.

"No kidding, I once challenged a guy who took a sip out his tankard and immediately fell off his stool in a drunken stupor," Lydia confides.

"That must have been some crazy-strong liquor," Sam says with intrigue.

"It was tap water…" Lydia reveals, rolling her eyes at the thought.

"…Wow, that's…rather bad I must admit…" Sam says after a brief pause, before clearing his throat to offer something else. "Say, feeling up for a new round of drinks?" he offers.

"I thought nine was more than enough. You want to go again?" Lydia questions him with intrigue.

"Why yes, but under special rules this time around," Sam explains. "Why don't we try my… 'special' brew?"

"I don't know…I feel I've reached my limit," Lydia responds as she tilts her head slightly at the thought.

"Oh, that's disappointing. Things were just getting good," Sam responds with a slight hint of dejection.

"No, I mean that if I were to continue, you'd most likely be the one to keel-over from alcohol poisoning, and I wouldn't want to embarrass you in front of all of these patrons," Lydia explains with an amused snort.

Sam glares back at Lydia with a sort of 'you dare challenge me?' expression on his face.

"Very well, may this be the true test of your meddle," Sam responds with a quick smile as he leans to the side and brings up an unmarked bottle of spirits that sat on the seat next to him. "Besides, this will be quite the show for our patrons here at The Bannered Mare."

"Huh?" Lydia questions before looking all around her and seeing nearly everyone within the tavern all focusing on them, as if they were anticipating some sort of epic showdown of the era.

"See? Surely will be a 'day to remember'. Shall we begin?" he coaxes, giving the bottle of spirits a little shake in his hands.

"_Am I going to regret this? I feel like I'm really going to regret this…"_

Lydia adjusts herself in her seat and loosens herself up before grabbing her tankard and slamming it on the table in front of Sam.

"Let's go," Lydia brazenly proclaims.

Sam laughs. "Now we're talking!" he says, pulling up the cork and pouring the colorless liquid into her tankard. "Drink up!" he says with glee, his eyes suddenly flashing a bright red for a moment before returning to normal.

"…_That was strange…did his eyes just…maybe I'm just seeing things…"_

Shrugging off her strange observation she couldn't quite verify at that moment, she lifts the tankard to her lips and chugs down the entire drink in one gulp.

"Ah, that's quite tasty, and it has a bit of a kick to it!" Lydia says with surprise as she sets it back down on the table.

"I'm glad you like it! Trust me, it'll really hit you hard in a moment," Sam says, giving her a friendly warning as he pours himself some and downs his drink in a singular motion as well.

"Is that right? I know some beverages are known to creep up on a person when they least expect it, but I doubt it'll affect me in any way shape or form," Lydia responds confidently.

Sam laughs and pours Lydia another round.

Lydia swiftly downs her liquor once again, a look of delight on her face soon afterwards. Sam follows up with another round of his own.

"So, how do you feel? Feel any…different?" Sam asks coyly.

"Nope, still feel fine. Not even a buzz," Lydia says to him with a cheeky smile, her composure and speech still quite intact with no signs of compromise at all.

"O…kay…" Sam says, a puzzled look on his face. "That is rather fascinating…my 'special' brew has been known to take down even the most experienced of drinkers."

"I'll admit, it has a nice twang to it, but its not quite like anything I've had in the past. If I'm being honest, it's not as punchy as I'd like it to be. If fact, its quite mediocre in strength," Lydia says, thinking out-loud as she analyzes the taste.

Sam's face turned from eagerness to slightly insulted upon hearing this. "…One more drink, for good measure?" he asks, taken aback at her shocking resistance to his drink.

"If you think it'll make a difference, sure," Lydia says, immediately holding out her tankard toward him for another refill.

Sam does just that, and watches Lydia put down yet another round of his alcohol without as much as a reaction or shift in body language.

"By the gods…no one has ever lasted this long in Sam's drinking contest…" says one onlooker from across the tavern.

"Aye, the woman is the tougher than Uthgerd The Unbroken," says Hulda the innkeeper.

"Oh sod-off!" Uthgerd retorts, who sat in the corner with a bag of ice on her bruised face from her altercation with Lydia earlier.

"Looks like the crowd is enjoying it. This place is rather nice I'll admit, minus 'alpha-bitch' over there," Lydia says to Sam while briefly nodding her head to Uthgerd. "Got any more of your special drink? It's starting to grow on me."

Sam immediately slams his hands on the table and stands to his feet.

"I believe our little contest is over. Please, come with me, I need to…talk to you about something," Sam says assertively, his demeanor suddenly turning serious.

"Oh, okay then," Lydia responds, darting her eyes back between Sam and the tavern's patrons as she slowly stands herself.

As the two excuse themselves from the lobby, Sam leads her to a private room at the back of the establishment.

Sam shuts the door behind him after Lydia enters.

"Is…something wrong…?" Lydia asks, wondering why the sudden shift in activity.

Before she could continue, a purple vortex consumes Sam, enveloping him in a strange spherical aura. When it dissipated, a completely different looking Sam was standing before Lydia. He was taller, wearing full Daedric armor minus the helmet, and his face was painted red with black streaks with small devil-like horns protruding from both above and on the side of his head.

"Uh…Sam…is that you?" Lydia asks, very confused as to what was going on.

"Yes, but my real name is Sanguine, the Daedric Prince of Debauchery. We need to talk, now!" the demonic-looking man reveals.

_Oh, lovely…I just had a friendly drink with Satan himself. What a way to find my target…_

* * *

**Please review and keep watch for new chapters as this fic is updated constantly!**


	4. Scene 4: The Misinterpretation

**Scene 4: The Misinterpretation**

_So, I found my target. How exactly do you get a Daedric Prince to cooperate with a mortal?_

_I'll show you how with this one weird trick…_

* * *

Lydia stares blankly at Sanguine in both bewilderment and intrigue. Never mind the fact that she had discovered her target so quickly, she was more interested in the man's facade than anything else.

"Wow, never expected to meet such a…beguiling man such as yourself," Lydia states.

"And never have I been bested in a friendly drinking challenge against mortals," Sanguine responds with a demonic echo in his voice as he crosses his arms.

"Well…if you claim to be the person I was ordered to meet, then my job is nearly complete," Lydia responds to Sanguine as she continues to analyze his otherworldly yet majestic appearance.

Sanguine chuckles.

"Let me guess…the Jarl has hired you in attempts to rid me from Whiterun. Am I right?" Sanguine amusingly questions. "It won't be the first time, I can assure you."

"Well, yeah, pretty much," Lydia responds. "Are you really that much of a nuisance to the citizens here?"

Sanguine shakes his head.

"Nuisance? Not at all. You see, being the Daedric Prince of Debauchery, I have certain preferences and quirks that I utilize to keep myself entertained. That, and my reputation is sort of a badge of honor if you will," Sanguine explains.

"So, taking advantage of others for your own amusement is how you get off each day. You must be really popular at parties…" Lydia smugly replies.

"Ha, you'd be surprised. In my own realm of Oblivion, which you mortals often refer to as 'hell', my lavish banquets and endless tribute to comradery and the sating of mortal desires are a thing to behold. There is never a dull moment in my realm…which is why I often enter the mortal space to find new additions to my gatherings," Sanguine reveals.

"Ah, I get it. You're merely testing the locals here to see if you can take advantage of their carefree and innermost desires," Lydia responds. "This all reminds me of a book I once read when I was a child, written by some author named Sheogorath."

"Oh, for the love of…you mean that bipolar psychopath actually published something within the mortal realm? That's worse than anything I'd ever attempt…" Sanguine mutters under his breath before regaining his composure. "But no, you are correct in your assumptions, mortal. My job is to fool others, and in turn, the fools join me in an eternal celebration of being free from rules and unbound from all human morality."

"Interesting. You'd love my uncle then. He really likes horses. I mean, really likes them, to the point of…well…I shouldn't say, its kind of gross in retrospect…" Lydia says with an embarrassed laugh.

There was then a light knock on the door behind them.

"_Hello? Is everything all right in there, you two? You need to pay for a room before you can just lock yourselves in,"_ says Hulda from the other side.

"Sorry, just a moment!" Lydia calls back, before turning to face Sanguine once again. "Look, we're getting off track here. As you already know I need to finish this job so I can make some cash and start a new life away from home. I don't suppose you'd be so willing to just let me escort you out of town and call it a day?"

"Well…" Sanguine starts, rubbing his chin. "I could indulge in your request. The townsfolk here, while quite entertaining, are not quite as manipulative or receptive to my wiles. You yourself are proof of that, mortal."

"I have a name, you know," Lydia responds, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow at the Daedric Prince.

"Right…Lydia, was it? Tell you what, I'll rub your back if you rub mine, you catch my drift?" Sanguine offers.

"Only if you first take off that ghoulish and garish armor," Lydia jabs back at Sanguine. "What sort of deal are you suggesting?" she asks, interested in his proposal.

"You are unlike any other mortal I have encountered during my thousands of years of existence. No one has ever resisted my 'special' brew until today. As a result, I feel that I can trust you in assisting me in a simple task. You see, a few days ago, I lent my prized artifact known as the Sanguine Rose to my previous victim, Ulfric Stormcloak. Around the time he was arrested and sent to Helgen for execution, my Sanguine Rose was confiscated by the local authorities. If you assist me in retrieving my artifact, then I'll keep my promise to leave Whiterun's citizens alone. What do you say?" Sanguine says.

_The guy is offering a pretty fair deal despite his background. It's not like I'd be able to find easier way to finish this job…_

"Deal," Lydia responds. "Now, how are we to exit this place without you blowing your cover?"

Without hesitation, Sanguine engulfs himself again in a purples vortex, and once it dissipates, he had transformed back into his Sam Guevenne persona.

"Oh, well then, easy enough I suppose. Shall we leave?" Lydia says with a surprised shrug.

"Lead the way," Sam responds with a humbled smile, his voice returning to normal for the time being.

* * *

**Please review and keep watch for new chapters as this fic is updated constantly!**


	5. Scene 5: The Misfunctioning

**Author's Note: **This chapter won't make much sense unless you've read this story's prequel: Skyrim: The Unglamourous Failings of Ulfric Stormcloak. When you do or if you have already, proceed forward, faithful reader!

* * *

**Scene 5: The Misfunctioning**

_I never dreamed I'd be teaming up with a being from an otherworldly dimension in an effort to make a name for myself._

_I wonder who else in Skyrim has had the opportunity to work with a Daedric Prince in the past…_

* * *

Meanwhile, while Lydia and Sanguine were making their way out of Whiterun in search for the Sanguine Rose, another soul entangled in the affairs of Oblivion seem to be having issues of his own.

**SLAM!**

Ulfric Stormcloak, known by few as the 'Bear of Markarth' and by many as the Jarl of Windhelm, slams open the doors to his residence: the Palace of Kings in an enormous huff. His entourage: Sifnar Ironkettle, Jorleif, Wuunferth the Unliving, and right-hand brother-in-arms Galmar Stone-Fist all froze is unison upon hearing the return of their leader...

...and Ulfric did not look happy at all.

In fact, he was uncharacteristically vehement.

"My Lord! You have returned from your journey. Any response from the various leaders around Skyrim regarding your demands for justice following the execution plot at Helgen?" Galmar asks eagerly, though taken aback at how miffed their leader was at the moment.

"No…none at all," Ulfric growled in response, storming over to his throne and parking himself on its seat without delay. "Those individuals who were responsible for my illegal capture and attempted execution are ignoring my threats of retaliation."

"My Lord, if I may interject. While I am in full agreement that the attempt to usurp you from the throne goes against the will of the Nords and our great country, I still fail to see how you would exact revenge on the accused parties when the Black-Briars of Riften, the Empire-aligned Solitude, and the Thalmor Embassy representatives would easily stomp us into the ground," Galmar explains to his exasperated leader.

Ulfric slams his fist on the arm of his throne in response.

"Damnit Galmar, don't you realize I'm aware of that?!" Ulfric roared, nearly unleashing his Dragonborn voice upon his housecarl. "No, what I need is access to a power far beyond the Dragonborn blood that flows within me."

"My Lord?" Galmar questions, curious as to his boss's thoughts on the situation.

"Sifnar, Jorleif, Wuunferth, and Galmar, gather around me. I have a secret to disclose with all of you," Ulfric began as his servants came forth and made a half-circle before him.

Ulfric clears his throat before continuing.

"My loyal Stormcloak brethren…last week I was tricked into allying myself with a Daedric Prince named Sanguine to help clear my name from those who wanted me jailed for murdering High King Torygg. That… 'demon' offered me protection from those around me, and instead made a mockery of my position and high-standing that made me vulnerable for capture by all parties I mentioned before," he explains.

The eyes of his men widen at this wild, but somehow believable revelation.

"Wait…you mean it was the workings of that demon who turned all of our men's weapons into bouquet of roses that one morning?" Galmar asks in shock.

"Yes, that's exactly the person who did that," Ulfric responds with a sigh.

"And the rumors of your carriage escort being defiled with holiday-trimming and décor…that was not just the press throwing false news around the region?" Jorleif questions.

"Precisely. He forced himself on me to achieve his own sick desires of amusement and debauchery," Ulfric responded in annoyance at the thought.

"Wow…I didn't know Daedric Princes lusted for man in that fashion. Kinky…" his court-wizard Wuunferth commented.

Everyone around him turns to glare at him for that off-color remark. Ulfric simply face-palms at the comment.

"Not like THAT you simpleton. Anyway, that Sanguine needs to pay for making me look like a damn joke to everyone across Tamriel," Ulfric continues.

"How are we going to do that? If that Sanguine fellow came to you out of his own free will, does that that mean other Daedric abominations can appear before you as well?" Sifnar questions.

Before Ulfric or anyone else could answer that question, the torches surrounding the castle's interior suddenly snuff themselves out, followed by a slow and steady earthquake that began to grow and shake all about the castle.

A loud, booming otherworldly voice then suddenly swept through the halls of the palace.

_"**I see the idiocy of man has not waned over the centuries of your pitiful existence."**_

"What in the…what is going on? Who said that?!" Galmar shouts out as he and everyone stood their ground trying to understand what was happening.

"An earthquake? Are we being attacked by dragons?!" Wuunferth proclaims.

"No, I highly doubt dragons are causing this…it must be yet another Daedric Prince," Ulfric responds as he tries to pinpoint the source of the voice.

_"**So, you're not as dumb as you may seem, mortal,"**_ the booming voice once again speaks.

In the middle of the throne room, a large swirling mass of bright crimson red energy the size of a mammoth began to form into a sphere as it illuminated the room. It then explodes, revealing a rather tall and scary-looking demon before everyone. He resembled a cross between a large bipedal hybrid of a bull and a reptile. His body was adorned with horns, fangs, claws and a long tail. In his hand he holds an intimidating-looking mace covered in spikes.

"W-who are you?! Ulfric demands, not knowing how to respond to such a threatening-looking demon.

"**I am Molag Bal, Daedric Prince of domination and enslavement of mortals. You, pathetic mortal, have been used by my Daedric brethren for their amusement, and I aim to make you my bitch for eternity as a result,"** the demon declares.

"Hey, ugly! I don't know who you think you are, but no one talks like that to the High King! Get out of here before we slay you were you stand!" Galmar yells in response, brandishing his blade while the other men in the room do the same as they surrounded the demon at all sides.

Molag sneers at the 'threat'. **"You fools have no idea who you are dealing with. I should crush you all with a single blow."**

"Not if I can help it," Ulfric responds, standing to his feet and approaching the demon. "True, I wish for power to get revenge on my plight, but I will never take orders from such a condescending beast such as you!"

"**What can you hope to do, Dragon-bitch? Bark at me with your weak and pathetic voice?"** Molag baits Ulfric with the insult.

"Precisely. FUS…RO DA!" Ulfric shouts in response, sending a thunderous force of energy directly toward the Daedric Prince. Molag instinctively sidesteps the attack, causing the shout to instead blow all of Ulfric's men clear out the main entrance of the palace in one fell swoop. The demon then reaches out to the doors and slams them shut with his powers, locking the men out for the time being.

"Well…that did not go as planned…" Ulfric responds with an 'oh-shit' tinge to his voice.

Molag Bal turns back to Ulfric and grabs him with his large claws, bringing the Nord up to eye-level.

"**Now that we are alone, I command you to do my bidding. Or would you rather face deprivation and humiliation beyond all reason?"** Molag states to him.

"I'm already experiencing that as I speak! All I care for…is to get back at that damn Sanguine…for the recent chain of events," Ulfric says, trying to wriggle himself from Malog Bal's grasp but to no avail.

"**Even if you could, you would never succeed. His Sanguine Rose guarantees his infinite power against mortal and demon,"** Molag reminds him.

"I doubt…he even has it on him!" Ulfric responds between grunts.

"**What do you mean, mortal?"** Molag demands, squeezing the Nord a bit harder in his grasp.

"I was in…possession of his Sanguine Rose for a while before I woke up…in some small cabin prior to my arrest," Ulfric grunts to being squeezed more.

Molag Bal drops Ulfric to the ground with a thud. He gasps for breath after being released from being held like a child grasping a small toy.

"**So the Sanguine Rose is without its owner?"** Molag says, his tone changing to that of appeasement. **"Then that changes things. With Sanguine vulnerable without his damn artifact, this will make it easier for me to manipulate him on my own terms."**

"You mean to say that you hate that damned demon as well? Ulfric asks in surprise.

"**Yes. You have no idea how much of an annoying troll Sanguine has been over the centuries. He once stole my mace and used it to play fetch with Clavicus Vile's dog Barbas. I will no longer tolerate that man's folly,"** Molag says angrily.

"Then why don't we make a deal?" Ulfric began. "I'll have my men go and retrieve the Sanguine Rose from the Empire, and you grant me use of your Daedric mace so that I may protect myself from future raids by the empire?"

Molag Bal glowers down and narrows his eyes at Ulfric before responding.

"**Fine. But not disappoint me, or else use your body and soul are mine to exploit for all of eternity!"** Molag states before surrounding himself once again in a sphere of crimson light, exploding afterwards causing him to disappear.

Within seconds, the main castle doors fly open as Ulfric's men rush back inside.

"My Lord, are you alright?!" Galmar calls out to his boss, rushing to his side first.

"Yes, I'm fine," Ulfric reassures him. That Daedric Prince is no longer around for the time being, but I have new orders for you and my Stormcloak brethren across Skyrim," Ulfric says to his housecarl. "Do a mass search for the whereabouts of the Sanguine Rose and bring it back to me. I aim to undo all of the shit that had befell upon me before."

"Yes, My Lord, we will get right on it," Galmar responds with a nod.

"And for the love of Shor, be careful around Sanguine. No telling if he has anyone with him that would make this mission harder than necessary," Ulfric warns before retiring to his quarters for the afternoon.

* * *

**Please review and keep watch for new chapters as this fic is updated constantly!**


	6. Scene 6: The Misadventure

**Scene 6: The Misadventure**

_Sam and I had left Whiterun about an hour ago to try and track down Sanguine's Rose…_

_…it's amazing what fascinating people you meet on the road to nowhere._

* * *

Hitching a ride on the back of a carriage, Lydia and Sanguine sat next to one another on its railing due to a large elongated crate occupying most of the space. It's driver, an eccentric, short Imperial male wearing funny clothes, mostly kept to himself, occasionally whispering something about his dear mother or something.

So, where are we headed again?" Sanguine asks while casually observing the vast open countryside.

"Loreius Farm, just north of Whitewatch Tower. The couple there are family friends of my uncle. They are always in the know of political ramblings of the empire, so I figure we'd ask them for clues on the whereabouts of your artifact," Lydia responds, leaning back a bit to see what was on the road ahead.

In the distance, she could spot the farm just over a small hill. "There it is, we've just about made it."

Suddenly, the carriage hits a nasty dip in the road, causing one of the wheels to buckle and break, tilting the passengers and cargo sideways as the horse immediately halts its movement. Lydia nearly fell off the side, but Sanguine caught her fall in one swift movement, as if he was expecting it.

Both Lydia and Sanguine hop of the cart, as did the driver, who approaches them with a very disgruntled and frustrated gaze while taking a look at the busted wheel.

"Oh my. How on Nirn did this happen?" Sanguine inquires, a slight hint of amusement in his voice.

"Agh! What does it look like?! Buther and befuddle! Stuck here! Stuck! My mother, my poor mother. Unmoving. At rest, but too still! Poor Cicero is now stuck. Can't you see?"

"Is he…talking in third person?" Lydia questions, whispering to Sanguine.

"It would appear so," Sanguine responds with a bemused shrug.

"Uh, Cicero, was your name? Is there any way we can help fix this?" Lydia offers the man.

"Yes, Yes! Before picking up you two I was transporting my dear, sweet mother. Well, not her. Her corpse! She's quite dead. I'm taking mother to a new home. A new crypt," Cicero explains with nuance scattered across his words.

"Wait…this big piece of cargo…your mother is in there?!" Lydia responds, raising an eyebrow at the new information revealed to them. "I didn't know you were off to a funeral or something, we wouldn't had asked you to give us a ride if that was the case."

_"This is what I get again for not looking before I leap at opportunities…"_

"It's no big deal honestly, I actually know the woman in that coffin," Sanguine says to them both.

"You do?" both Lydia and Cicero echo simultaneously in curiosity.

"Yes indeed. She is known as the Night Mother to mere mortals. I once dated her way back in the Second Era. She was sweet but a bit of a psycho. She broke up with me only after a month and ultimately ran off to marry Sithis in the end," Sanguine explains, rubbing his chin as he recollects. "I bet that ended well…"

Lydia and Cicero both turn at look at one another after hearing this rather shocking revelation.

"Cicero is not even going to dwell upon that information for one second. All that matters right now is the wagon wheel! Damnedest wagon wheel! It broke! Don't you see? If only a kindly stranger had the tools to help us fix it," the jester whines in frustration.

"Well, Loreius Farm is just up ahead. I can to talk to Vantus and his wife Curwe, they might have tools than can help," Lydia responds. "Come on, Sam, I want you to come meet them," she adds, tugging Sanguine along.

Walking up the short dirt path past a windmill and up to the small hut next to a vegetable field, they stop before the door and give it a swift knock. The door immediately opens and out steps the patriarch of the residence.

"Oh, for the love of Mara. What now..wait, Lydia…is that you?" Vantus initially responds in a cold tone before realizing who it was.

"Hey Mr. Loreius! Haven't seen you since I was a kid," Lydia says with a smile. "This is my friend, Sam Guevenne," she continues, relieved that he was still disguised in his human persona.

"My word, you have grown into a fine young woman! What brings you here out to these parts?" Vantus ask, resting his hands on his waist as he takes a good look at the two.

"It's about this person named Cicero…" Lydia began, before Vantus cuts her off, a scowl quickly spreading across his face as a result.

"That Cicero feller? Tell me something I don't know. Crazy fool's been by our farm every week for the past month it seems, always claiming to want something different each time. Last time he pestered my wife and I was when he was selling tunics that read 'Join The Dark Brotherhood'," Vantus explains whilst rolling his eyes in disgust.

"I take it you've turned him down each time he has approached you?" Sanguine muses.

"Each and every time. Seems he's not satisfied with my answer. Why can't he just leave us alone? What is he after this time?" Vantus questions.

"Well, Sanguine and I were riding with Cicero to see you when his carriage broke down just up the road. We wanted to ask you about something you might know. Have you heard anything about the Empire acquiring any strange items as of late?" Lydia asks.

"I can answer that," spoke a voice from within the hut as Vantus's wife Curwe approach's her husband's side.

"Why hello, Lydia, so nice to see you again after all these years. Is this handsome fellow your boyfriend?" she warmly asks the two.

"Uh…not really, just a friend of mine I met recently," Lydia responds with a slightly embarrassed chuckle.

Sanguine was loving every opportunity to see Lydia blush at any notion of people assuming they were a couple. Such folly.

"I see. Well, anyhow, I heard a rumor that Fort Sungard just southeast of here, once occupied by the Empire is now occupied by the Forsworn. A friend of mine who lives near there said that the Forsworn ransacked an Imperial escort. Among the cargo was said to be some sort of red flower that looked out of place among the weaponry and supplies," Curwe recollects.

Lydia's eyes lit up at the revelation.

"That must be it! Sam, we must go check it," Lydia says, excited for the information given to them.

"Indeed. However, there is still an issue that needs to be dealt with," Sanguine reminds her, motioning to Cicero in the distance who seemed to be impatiently waiting for assistance with his carriage.

"Oh, right!" Lydia says, turning back to the couple. "Cicero really seems to need help this time around. He did give us a ride here after all. Couldn't we pay you to fix his wagon?"

"That is nice of him and all, but pay me? Have you seen the man? He's completely out of his head. A jester? Here, in Skyrim? Ain't been a merryman in these parts for a hundred years. And he's transporting some giant box. Last time it was merchandise. What in the world is he hauling this time?" Vantus questions.

"It's a coffin, and he's going to bury his 'dear sweet' mother," Sanguine answers in a sing-song-like tone.

"Mother my ass. He could have anything in there. War contraband. Weapons. Skooma. Low-fat Sweet Rolls. Sorry Lydia, but ain't no way I'm getting involved in any of that anymore," Vantus states, absolute in his resolve.

"I see. It's no worry, I'm sure Sam and I can offer him help so he won't bother you anymore. Thank you for the information though, and it was really good to see you two again," Lydia says to the couple, grateful for their assistance.

"It's our pleasure, kiddo. Just be safe out there, no telling what sort of tricksters and charlatans are roaming nearby," Curwe responds.

"That makes two of us," Sanguine says with an amused grin. Lydia scoffs at his statement, knowing full well he was one of those 'tricksters'.

Returning to carriage, Cicero steps up to them hoping to hear good news about the situation.

"Well?!" Cicero insists upon them.

"No good, they aren't willing to help you out. I'm sure there's another method to fix your wheel," Lydia responds.

"Hmm…perhaps I could offer a solution," Sanguine interjects, taking a step towards the jester. "Who is the current head of The Dark Brotherhood?"

"That damned Nord…Astrid is her name. Cicero hates her so much! She is ruining the image of The Dark Brotherhood with her failed methods and disrespect to Sithis and the foundation of our sect!" Cicero responds irritably, stomping his feet on the ground while he spoke.

"Oh my word…I know Astrid!" Lydia proclaims as her eyes light up upon hearing the name.

"You do?!" Cicero and Sanguine respond in unison.

"Yeah, went to school with her. She was a snarky and rebellious little firecracker back then. Had a strange obsession with killing small animals though, not sure what that developed into," Lydia says to them.

"I see. Seems like you both don't particularly care for her. Here, take this," Sanguine says, causing a small parchment to magically materialize in his hands before handing over to Cicero. "Take this official document and show it to the nearby patrol. They will assist you with your repairs, and all charges and fees will be routed to Astrid's bank account."

Cicero jumps for joy at the notion of finally getting help and striking back at Astrid through her finances.

"Cicero is most pleased with this! Leave the rest to me. Cicero hopes to see you two again someday!" the jester says before skipping away merrily to find a nearby guard on patrol.

"I'm glad that's been solved. I guess we'll have to hoof it from here on out," Lydia says to Sanguine.

"That is fine by me. It's kind of nice to freely roam the mortal realm like this," he responds with a grin. "Shall we?"

* * *

**Please review and keep watch for new chapters as this fic is updated constantly!**


	7. Scene 7: The Mystifying

**Scene 7: The ****Mystifying**

_Sam and I had left Loreius Farm on foot southwest past Riverwood en route to our next destination…_

_…the talk we had along the way, it's making me think differently about Sam in a good way._

* * *

It was midday.

The sun was beaming down upon the two travelers as they slowly trudge along the dirt road that lead to an unknown destination. Lydia had not ventured this far west before, so she was quite unfamiliar with the area.

Sanguine hadn't spoken for a while since our last departure. He mostly kept to himself, either whistling or humming an unfamiliar tune as he took in the vast open countryside surrounding them.

He really seemed to be enjoying himself.

"Hey, Sam?" Lydia says to him out of the blue.

"Hmm?" Sam responds curiously.

"Since you're not from this realm, what are your friends and family like? Do they too visit Nirn and casually interact with us mortals?" Lydia inquires.

Sam stops upon hearing her question. He sighs an exasperated smile as he walks toward a roundish rock on the side of the road, plopping himself down as if he was about to tell me quite a tale. I plant myself next to him and listened intently.

"Other Daedric Princes operate in a much different fashion unlike myself and couple of my ilk. You see, throughout Tamriel's history, mortals have frequently summoned my kind to worship, study or to make deals with. These typically involve some sort of bargain with the Prince in question, but not always. It should be noted that dealing with us sometimes causes changes in appearance, such as black dots in the whites of the eyes or strange eye color. In my case, I am able to shape-shift between my true form to that of mortal man," Sanguine explains.

"I see, so your kind are deeply rooted in humanity's history. Why do us mortals find you all so fascinating?" Lydia asks.

"Well, each Daedric Prince holds some degree of "patronage" over a physical, philosophical, or metaphysical concept or state of being. The varied and wide range of these aspects has nurtured a devoted following among the mortals that hold them as figures of worship; either in spite of or in reaction to the teachings of the Divines. While some of the Princes are unconcerned for the well-being of their followers, with some actively causing harm to them by some means, other Daedric Princes have been known to both reward and actively protect their followers," Sanguine recounts from memory.

"Interesting! Where do you fall in all of this?" Lydia inquires.

"I enjoy the company of mortals who have a passion for the carefree, the unregulated, and the overall sense of freedom to do what they please. One could say I'm an enabler of one's selfish and gluttonous desires, but even I'm not without compassion for mortals and their personal goals and dreams," Sanguine states.

"Is that why you're still sticking around with me? I have a feeling not many people have bested you at your own tricks," Lydia says with a chuckle.

"Precisely," Sanguine responds with a grin. "You're quite fascinating to be quite honest. I only wish my brethren would recognize such qualities in humanity as I do," Sanguine says with a sigh.

_"Wow, this is getting deep. I didn't know all-powerful demon gods would be so open about their feelings…"_

"So, you're saying other Daedric Lords are not so nice as you?" Lydia asks, crossing her arms and titling her head in intrigue.

"For the most part, no. Most of the others can be place on a scale and measured between the points of 'Power-Hungry Overlord and 'Unapologetic Asshole', with one being on a plane of his own with 'Batshit Insane'. One particular individual has been a constant thorn in my side," Sanguine says with a sigh.

"Who is that?" Lydia asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Molag Bal, Daedric Prince of domination and enslavement of mortals. He's a piece of work. He's spent an eternity trying to one-up me and take me down so he could rule my own personal plane of Oblivion. He has yet to succeed, but he often makes attempts during my moments of vulnerability," Sanguine explains.

"Moments of vulnerability, like right now, since, you are not in possession of your Rose, correct?" Lydia confirms.

"Precisely. What's worse is that without my Rose, I cannot sense his presence in the mortal realm that easily. For all I know, he could be pursuing me as we speak. Or, at least have some unsuspecting grunts do his dirty work for him," Sanguine responds, rolling his eyes.

"Well, I may not be able to comprehend how scary this Molag guy is, but there is no way I'm letting him hurt such a cool person as yourself, Sam. Come on, let's resume our search for your Rose so you can get your powers back," Lydia says with newfound enthusiasm as she springs off of the rock and back onto her feet.

Sanguine smiles and nods. "Lead the way, Lydia."

As the two resume their journey to a destination unknown, four individuals: Sifnar, Jorleif, Wuunferth, and Galmar, were watching their every move from atop of a small hill several yards away.

"Those two down there…who do you think they are?" Wuunferth asks his men.

"I don't know, but they too appear to be looking for the Sanguine Rose as well," Galmar responds.

"Should we follow them?" Jorleif asks.

"Yes, let's keep tabs on those two. Who knows what trouble they could bring on our search for that Daedric artifact," Galmar responds.

Back with Lydia, Sanguine suddenly stops in his tracks.

"Sam? What's wrong?" Lydia asks.

"We're being watched," he states, not turning to look over his shoulder. "Not to worry, I'll take care of this in a snap," Sanguine states as he snaps his fingers. "There, problem solved," he continues as he resumes his walk down the road.

_"Hmm? Wonder what that was all about…?"_ Lydia thought to herself before shrugging and picking up her pace to be alongside him.

Back at the hill, Ulfric's four men suddenly hear a strange sound.

"Hey, you hear something?" Sifnar asks.

"Yeah, sounds like something large and scary breathing down our necks…" Wuunferth responds.

All four men then turn their heads around simultaneously to witness a very large and otherworldly undead troll towering over them. It was green in hue with bright red eyes, seething sharp teeth, and carrying a stupidly-large bone club in his hand.

"AAAAAHHHHH!" all four men yell in unison as they all scramble away as the troll gave chase to them down the road.

* * *

**Please review and keep watch for new chapters as this fic is updated constantly!**


	8. Scene 8: The Miscalculating

**Scene 8: The Miscalculating**

_Sam and I continue our search for the Sanguine Rose, when we encountered a pretty interesting looking fort off the beaten path._

* * *

"Hey look, a fort! I wonder what's inside?" Lydia perks up with much interest.

Lydia and Sam were standing outside the entrance of Fort Sungard, a fortress located strategically at the crossroads between the Reach, Whiterun Hold, and Falkreath Hold.

"More so, I wonder who occupies it?" Sam questions. "Doesn't look like mortal militia still uses it for anything."

"We should go explore it!" Lydia says enthusiastically, turning to Sam in a sudden radiant of excitement.

"You're rather pumped to explore a dilapidated stronghold. Why is that?" Sam asks curiously.

"I used to read tons of books as a little girl, and many were of great adventurers who explored old ruins and castles. I always wanted to see one in person. What do you say, Sam? Just for a little while?" Lydia practically begs him, showing a more youthful demeanor than her usual stoic and staunch self.

"I don't see any harm in it. Perhaps it is fate after all, like most other things," Sam says with a humbled sigh.

"Whoo! Let's go then!" Lydia says with fervor as she started to enter through the main gates, only to be stopped by two guards, one male and the other female brandishing weapons who stepped in front of her out of nowhere.

The two individuals, wearing revealing tribal-like animal clothing and headdresses, block her advance.

"Oh! I didn't know there were other explorers here too. Want to venture with us around the fort?" Lydia offers the pair.

Both guards look at one other in confusion, then back at Lydia before the male whistles out loud, signaling several more guards from the area to emerge from within.

Within seconds Lydia was jumped and beaten up by the rogue mob.

* * *

When Lydia came to, she slowly opens her eyes, soon realizing she was now tied to a vertical stake in the middle of the fort's courtyard.

Sam was nowhere in sight.

"Huh? What happened? Where am I?" Lydia says, shaking off the haziness of getting ambushed sometime earlier.

"The courtyard of Fort Sungard, m'lady," says a voice to her left.

Lydia turns her head and sees four other men tied to stakes in a similar fashion.

Those men were none other than Sifnar, Jorleif, Wuunferth, and Galmar.

"What…is going on here?! Lydia questions. "Who are you anyways?"

"We're servants of High King Ulfric Stormcloak. We were searching for the Sanguine Rose when some random undead troll appeared out of nowhere and gave us a good chase," Wuunferth explains.

"That's when we ran into the Forsworn, natives of the Reach who helped us defeat that horrible creature, then they proceeded to kick our asses and had us strung up here at the fort," Galmar adds.

"Wait, you guys work for Ulfric Stormcloak?! What does he want with the Sanguine Rose?" Lydia inquires, her interest perking up at the mere mention of the Rose among other details.

"Revenge against a certain Daedric Prince named Sanguine who has humiliated both Lord Ulfric and another Daedric Prince named Molag Bal," Jorleif says.

_"Oh wow, what luck to run into the very people Sam warned me about. Sounds like they are truly out for his hide…"_

"Now its your turn to start explaining yourself. Who are you and that other fellow, and why are you looking for the Sanguine Rose?" Sifnar questions.

"Like I'm going to tell you! I appreciate the exposition dump on your role in all of this, but Sam and I are searching for the Rose for personal reasons," Lydia responds in a mocking tone.

"Why you little! Just wait until I get my hands on you! I bet you're an agent of Sanguine!" Galmar accuses her.

"Kind of hard to do that since we're tied up like this. What does the Forsworn want with us exactly?" Lydia responds.

"Allow me to explain," came the voice of another who steps into the courtyard and confronts them.

My name is Madanach, the rightful leader and owner of the city of Markarth," says the elderly Breton with white hair and a long white beard. "My land and its people were unceremoniously ejected from our home by the Nords many years ago in a Civil War conflict known as the Forsworn Rebellion. My men fought bravely to defend our territory, but the damned Silverblood family made a deal with a young villainous troop leader named Ulfric Stormcloak and forced us out! A few men and I were arrested and thrown into Cidhna Mines for years while the rest of our people managed to escape."

"Wait, if you were arrested, how did you escape? I heard those mines were impossible to breach!" Jorleif questions.

"I have my ways, you dig?" Madanach responds, crossing his arms.

"Wow, that's really fascinating," Lydia says sympathetically to Madanach before turning to Galmar and his team. "Your boss is a real asshole, isn't he?" she adds.

"Hey, who asked you, bitch!" Wuunferth retorts.

"So what's all this have to do with us?" Sifnar asks Madanach.

"Revenge, that's what! You men are guilty by default for being Ulfric sympathizers. And for that, I'm going to use you and this lady here for my grand comeback," Madanach explains.

"Wait, I'm being roped into this too?" Lydia asks.

"Yes. You see, at first we were going to execute you all for trespassing on our territory as we thought you were spies sent to flush us out. However, a very fascinating fellow by the name of Sam stepped in while you were all unconscious to negotiate your release," Madanach continues.

"Sam?! Where is he?" Lysdia eagerly ask.

"He's waiting outside the fort," Madanach answers. "Here's the deal. I will set you all free if you swear to serve me and my men in a new campaign to take back Markarth from the Nords. I will call this 'Operation Forsworn Conspiracy'. Once the city is liberated, all will be forgiven, and you can all do what you please as long as you never set foot in our land ever again. How does that sound?"

"Are you mad, old man?! That egregiously goes against political policy against Ulfric's allies stationed in Markarth!" Galmar says angrily.

"I see. Well that's a pity. I also have hard evidence that a certain artifact all of you are searching for is currently under lock and key in Markarth as we speak. A certain…Sanguine Rose, perhaps?" Madanach responds with fake sorrow.

Everyone's eyes flew open at the revelation of the location of the item all of them were looking for.

"The Sanguine Rose, its in Markarth?!" Lydia says with much surprise.

"Indeed, young lady," Madanach began. "An agent of mine within the city informed me that a certain famous Altmer Conjurer named Calcelmo acquired the artifact for study not too long after Ulfric's capture. It's being held in his museum. You help me liberate Markarth, then you all can do whatever you want with that artifact."

Ulfric's men and Lydia stopped to think for a while, whispering among one another before turning to answer Madanach.

"I'd rather be rotisserie'd over hot coals than bend a knee to you savages... but looks like we have no choice. Fine, we'll agree to this job, but we're only doing this to get the Rose back to Lord Ulfric," Galmar responds.

"Over my dead body! That Rose is going back to its rightful owner!" Lydia responds to Galmar. "Anyway, sure, count me in too, since Sam negotiated the terms for our release," she then says to the old Forsworn leader.

Madanach chuckles.

"Good…good…" Madanach says under his breath. "Men, release them," he motions as his Forsworn allies' step in to untie everyone.

* * *

Shortly after, Lydia, Ulfric's men, Madanach and his small army all emerge from within the fort and exit through the main entrance. Not too far in the distance was indeed Sam, sitting on a rock and casually sipping on a cup of wine.

"Sam!" Lydia calls out happily as she runs up to him. "I'm so glad you're safe. You really negotiated with the Forsworn to release us all from imprisonment?"

"Indeed, I did," Sam responds, finishing his drink. "With the location of my Rose being Markarth, I asked the old Breton to release Ulfric's men as well."

"Oh? Why is that?" Lydia asks.

"I know Markarth like the back of my hand. It's also the location of one of Molag Bal's shrines. Let's just say things are really going to get interesting upon our arrival there," Sam responds enigmatically. "We'll need all the help we can."

"Sounds like an adventure too good not to miss. Let's do this, Sam!" Lydia says with newfound resolve.

* * *

**Please review and keep watch for new chapters as this fic is updated constantly!**


	9. Scene 9: The Miscellanea

**Scene 9: The Miscellanea**

_While Lydia, Sam, Ulfric's Men, and the Forsworn make their way toward Markarth in search of the Sanguine Rose, the Jarls around Skyrim were relaying messages to one another._

* * *

This letter was received by Jarl Balgruf of Whiterun from Jarl Igmund of Markarth.

* * *

_"Dear Balgruf,_

_I hear-tell from reliable sources that your hold has was visited by the Daedric Lord Sanguine in recent weeks, as was Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak in Windhelm. Rest assured, that we here at Markarth are formulating a secret plot to lure that Daedric Lord into our city. You see, my very good friends over at the Thalmor Embassy came into contact with the Sanguine Rose a few days back, a powerful artifact supposedly belonging to Sanguine. Our plan is to keep this object locked within Calcelmo's Museum in Understone Keep. When this Daedric Lord wanders into our grasp, my legion of Markarth guards under the command of Thalmor Justiciar Ondolemar will capture him and put an end to his reign of terror._

_I trust you won't leak this information to any of the other Jarls. Our best interest is keeping the peace of Skyrim, and maintaining the goodwill from the Empire and the Thalmor._

_Signed, Jarl Igmund of Markarth_

* * *

In complete defiance of Jarl Igmund's decree, Jarl Balgruf relays a copy of this letter to Ulfric Stormcloak, who responds to him without delay.

* * *

_Dear Balgruf,_

_So, that damned Jarl Igmund is using the Sanguine Rose and presence of the Thalmor to leverage power in their favor. This is inexcusable, as both my humiliation from the Markath Incident and from Sanguine will not go unpunished. I have already sent my men in search to retrieve this Sanguine Rose, as I know firsthand of its devastating power, and it must not fall into the likes of neither Jarl Igmund nor the Thalmor bastard. _

_What say we form an alliance and march our armies to Markarth and take back the Sanguine Rose by force? Trust me, I have a powerful ally of my own, in the form of another Daedric Lord: Molag Bal. You see, he too despises Sanguine, who stole his Mace. If we work together, all parties will benefit in preventing a future hostile takeover of our land. Skyrim belongs to the Nords, and most definitely not the Daedra. I await for your response._

_Signed, Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak._

* * *

Balgruf receives this response and writes back to Ulfric immediately.

* * *

_Dear Ulfric,_

_As much as it pains me to get involved in another potential conflict of catastrophic perorations, we have no choice to stop this incident from happening. I will cooperate with you for this one occasion only. Also, I too have sent out a hopeful soul in search of this Sanguine, and my hopes is that she comes out unscathed in this potential clash of powers. I will prepare my men for dispatch posthaste. May the Divines have mercy on us all._

_Signed, Jarl Balgruf_

* * *

Things were starting to heat up around Skyrim, and the epicenter of it all was about to clash within the ancient stone confines of The Reach.

* * *

**Please review and keep watch for new chapters as this fic is updated constantly!**


End file.
